


On the Other Side

by Sachgo03



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Zelda, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sachgo03/pseuds/Sachgo03
Summary: Finally, he knew her name. Zelda. Of course even her name would sound cooler than his. That was just how it was. She was the super cool tattoo shop girl and he was just the odd flower shop guy. Those were their roles, whether he liked it or not.Link is sick of his boring life in Magda's Marigolds. If only he could see what the tattoo shop next door was like. Luckily for him, a regular customer gives him a glimpse of what life looks like on the other side... and though she may not know it, she also gives him the perfect opportunity to experience it for himself.Modern flower/tattoo shop AU inspired by a Tumblr post I found on Pinterest.
Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 71





	On the Other Side

“Have a nice day!”

The small bell hanging just above the front door rang, signifying another customer’s departure from the store. Link’s plastered smile and feigned cheer immediately evaporated as soon as he heard it. Slouched behind his place at the register, he sighed.

Every day was like the one before. It was almost June, meaning most proms, banquets, and other things of the sort were over, and not many had need of bountiful bouquets or fanciful flowers anymore. There’d be the occasional customer, often either a man who has no other idea what to get the woman in his life for her birthday or an older woman who has a passion for gardening, but for the most of the day, Magda’s Marigolds was the quietest shop on the block.

Because of this, Link had plenty of spare time, but nothing better to do with it than arrange and rearrange the displays and sweep the floors of the incessant stream of fallen petals. How on earth had he ended up  _ here _ ? Working at a trashy fast food joint would be better than this. It’d be more exciting, at least. Link didn’t even know a thing about flowers outside of whatever was in the reference guide book his coworker Anju had lent him. 

It wasn’t even as if it was a nice flower shop. It was crowded, poorly ventilated, and the volume of the speakers that were supposed to play pleasant music were broken so it was so quiet it could only be heard if no one in the shop was talking. No, it certainly was not a nice flower shop. Quite frankly it might be the worst.

There was one thing, however, that kept Link from completely losing his mind. One customer that kept coming back, every day, promptly at the same time every afternoon. This customer was distinctly different from the elderly gardeners and flustered husbands that made up the majority of the population of shoppers. She was young, probably around Link’s age, and always sported a dark, old looking t-shirt with ripped jeans. She often wore her hair up in a messy bun, a scarf or handkerchief tied around her head to restrain the flyaways.

She didn’t seem quite like the flowery type. But every day, she would come, buy a single flower, and leave. It was never the same flower twice. One day she’d buy a carnation, the next a rose, the next a lily, but never again. As long as they had more new flowers, she would come and buy them. One by one.

This girl wasn’t a complete stranger to Link. He knew she worked at the tattoo shop right next door and came by in the afternoons because that’s when she was on break, though he hadn’t any idea what her name was or why she was meticulously collecting all these flowers. They’d exchange casual banter for a bit before she’d make her selection and be on her way. It had gotten to the point where Anju had asked if the two of them were siblings because of how often she observed them teasing each other.

Working at the tattoo shop, Link would often muse, It must be so much cooler than it is here. In every sense of the word. Link pulled at his collared shirt in discomfort. It was always so dreadfully humid in the flower shop. Of course, the broken air conditioning didn’t help. He bet the tattoo shop had working air conditioning. If only he could follow that girl and see things from the other side. He wanted to know more about her work at the shop, and how much more fun it must be than staring at the painfully colorful flora in his harshly lit shop that threatens to burn your retinas while simultaneously clogging your sinuses with pollen from the lack of air circulation. What he wouldn’t give to trade places, even for a day… 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t give you a discount unless you have the coupon with you,” Link explained for the umpteenth time to the crotchety middle-aged man in front of him.

“Well, what do you know, you’re a kid!”

“Sir, I’d like you to know that I am a legal adult and have been working here for over a year. I’m quite familiar with how we handle these types of issues.”

“Whatever, kid! Where’s your manager? I’d like to see what he has to say about all this,” the man roared, his hands clenched into tight fists.

“ _ She _ is not in right now, but I assure you, if she were, she’d tell you the same thing I’m telling you now. No coupon, no discount.”

“But I know I have it! It’s not like I’m making this up! Why can’t you just give me the darned thing?”

“I’m afraid I’m not allowed to do that, sir,” his patience was wearing thin. It was guys like these that made his job especially insufferable. The man started spouting curses at him, catching Anju’s attention as she rushed in to handle the situation. 

It was just in time, too. Link had a plan today, and he wasn’t about to let an ill-tempered dolt who doesn’t understand the concepts of basic retail ruin any of it. While Anju handled the man at the counter from behind the register, Link snuck toward the display windows, tidying the space a bit while taking occasional glances out the window. When he saw her coming, he retreated to one of the far corners of the store.

Right on cue, the front door opened, and in walked the girl. She seemed slightly thrown off by the man’s angry yelling that trumpeted over the softly played ambient music of the tiny shop at first. But she let not a minute go to waste as she paced the rows of colorful petals, seeming to be on a search for one in particular. When she reached the corner Link waited in, he tapped her shoulder from behind and presented a single flower in his hand.

“I presume this is what you’re looking for?” he asked, cordially bowing for dramatic effect. The girl cupped a hand over her mouth, delicately taking the blue and white-colored flower from his fingers into hers. They were surprisingly soft as they brushed against his skin and the mere elegance with which she held it close to her was in such stark contrast with what he’d come to piece together up until now.

“It’s… perfect. I’ve never seen anything like it,” she practically whispered in awe.

“It’s a flower. I’m certain you’ve seen something like it once or twice before.”

“Well duh,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “But none like this before. What kind is it?” Link watched the girl examine the plant in her fingers, twisting it to view every angle. He’d expected a pleasant reaction, but this was going better than he could have anticipated. 

“It’s called a Silent Princess. They’re pretty rare. Technically, we aren’t really supposed to sell them to the general public, but I figured you’d like one.”

“Really? Why me?”

“Well, eventually you were gonna run out of options,” he gestured to the wall flooding with flora beside them. “We only sell so many types of flowers, y’know.”

“Well, then I suppose you have good instincts. How much for it?”

“Don’t worry about it. Consider it an offering of friendship. From me to you.”

Link reached his hand to casually lean against the wall, somehow forgetting it was entirely made of flowers and causing him to stumble face-first into a pile of pansies. The girl tried not to laugh at him, but not overly hard. He regained composure as quickly as possible, smoothing out his polo shirt and sweeping petals and pollen out of his hair. She was still giggling as she picked another small leaf from the fringe that now haphazardly covered his forehead. 

“That was smooth.”

“Shut up, you didn’t see anything,” his face burned, and not just from the pollen overloading his senses. 

“Did you actually forget there were flowers there? When you  _ just _ finished talking about it?”

“No, I was just… uh, I just lost my balance. That’s all.”

“Riiight,” she responded satirically, turning her attention back to the Princess in her fingers. 

“So… what do you do with all those flowers anyway?” Link rubbed the back of his neck and straightened his posture. The angry man had left by now and the shop was filled with nothing but the ambient music that was easily overtaken by a normal volume conversation once again. 

“Here,” she excitedly pulled her phone from her back pocket and tapped the screen with the utmost precision. “I’ll show you.” She scrolled through her photos, almost all of which were of drawings of flowers in a sketchbook. Each one was in great detail with a handful of bullet points to the side.

“Wow, these are… impressive,” Link admitted. “Did you draw all these?”

“I’ve always enjoyed the symbolism of flowers, so I’ve been researching each one individually. I take a single one from this shop to sketch when I get home, then I research its history, reputation, and things of the sort. It’s all towards the great effort to find which one I like best so one day I can have it tattooed,” she rolled up her right sleeve and circled the area of her upper arm. “Right here.”

“You tattoo yourself?”

“Well, no, of course not. But as a tattoo artist, it only makes sense to have something extravagant. Right now all I have is this.” The girl clenched her fist and showed Link the back of her right hand. There was a plain black outlining of a tower of three triangles.

“The Triforce? From the fairy tales?”

“They’re not fairy tales!” The girl exclaimed, smacking the side of his arm. “They’re legends. And if you paid any attention in school, you’d know they’re true.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he chuckled. “I just thought it was an interesting choice.” The girl stared at the simplistic design, tracing it with her finger.

“Well, the truth is I did do this one myself, with my left hand. I just needed something simple and I figured I liked history so it made sense.”

“Jeez, your job sounds so much cooler than mine.”

“Don’t take what you have for granted. People over there can be insufferable. There are times I could only dream of working somewhere quieter and simpler like a flower shop.”

“Then, by all means, take it!” Link offered, only half-joking. The two of them laughed before the all too familiar bell chimed above the front door, reminding Link he was still on the clock.

“I suppose I ought to let you get back to work, then, huh?”

“I guess,” he sighed heavily. 

“I ought to be going soon, anyway. Thank you again for the flower. I’ll see you later, Link.” The girl casually turned to saunter out the door with her usual air of confidence. Link blinked a couple of times before registering what had happened. She knows his name!

“Hey, wait!” he called after her, making a bit more of a scene than he had liked. “How did you..?”

“What? If you didn’t want me to call you by your name then you shouldn’t have worn that nametag.” It was faded and not the cleanest, but it was legible and she had a point. 

“Well, you can’t just accept my friendship offering and use my name without telling me yours, too.” She smirked at him, extending her free hand.

“Fine. Zelda.”

“There,” he said, firmly grasping her soft hand and shaking it. “Now it’s official.”

“You’re so odd,” she remarked as if it were a studious observation before shaking her head and walking out the door. Link watched her stroll down the sidewalk to her place of work next door, Valoo’s Tattoos, and was dying to follow her.

Only once she was out of sight did Link return to the register. Finally, he knew her name. Zelda. Of course even her name would sound cooler than his. That was just how it was. She was the super cool tattoo shop girl and he was just the odd flower shop guy. Those were their roles, whether he liked it or not. 

<><><><><><><>

Each day became much less laborious now that he had an official friend that came to visit. Zelda often chatted with Link while in the store, which meant he finally had something to look forward to every day. They also exchanged phone numbers early on so they could keep in touch and know when each other were working. It was all in the grand effort of growing their “official friendship,” a term Zelda always made sure to tease him for using.

A couple of days after he’d given her the Silent Princess, Zelda had texted Link a picture of the most recent entry in her sketchbook. Like all the others he’d seen were, the sketch was extremely detailed and accurate. Below the picture, she sent, “it’s my favorite one yet.” Link was just happy to make his new friend so happy, and if giving her a rare (possibly near extinct, but he didn’t mention that) flower was how he could do that, then so be it. He worked at a flower shop for Hylia’s sake, he might as well make some use out of it.

However, after a couple of weeks, Link was hearing from Zelda less and less. She didn’t come into the flower shop as often, she didn’t respond to his texts until hours later (if even at all), and therefore his life had become boring again. Link didn’t think too much of it at first, she was probably just busy doing one of the coolest jobs on the planet, but as time grew he began to worry. Was she alright? Would he ever see her again? Had he just lost his official friend?

It didn’t take long until he had his answer. The cheerful bell above the front door rang loudly as a beautiful blonde entered the shop. Her forehead glistened with sweat and her hair was haphazardly tied up atop her head. She marched straight toward the counter and slapped it with her palm to get his attention. Link had been re-reading one of the bland gardening magazines they had for sale out of sheer boredom, but still jerked at the slapping of her palm to the cold marble surface. His face burst into a grin when his electric blue eyes met her green ones.

“I have something important to discuss with you,” Zelda demanded, her tone causing him to stand a bit straighter and arch an eyebrow. “When are you on break?” Link checked his phone for the time. It was a little early, but… 

“Right now, I guess,” he answered, grabbing his sack lunch and calling his coworker to manage the cash register while he was out. She dragged him outside the shop, where there was a bench not far from the display windows. She motioned for him to sit, which he immediately obeyed, before taking a seat next to him. “So, what’s up?”

“I want to show you something,” all the urgency that had filled her air moments before was overtaken by the innocent joy like that of a child receiving a birthday present.

“That’s all? And here you had me believing this was something important!”

“This is important!” she smacked his arm. “I haven’t shown this to anyone yet.” Zelda lifted the right sleeve of her t-shirt to reveal a beautiful concoction of colors and lines sprawled across her arm.

“Whoa,” was all Link managed to say, his jaw was hanging loosely from his face and his eyes stared dumbly at the masterpiece.

“I know! Isn’t it gorgeous?” she exclaimed giddily.

“It looks just like your drawing.”

“Well, I have some very talented colleagues.”

“I’ll say!”

Any more detail and (aside from the redness of her skin which indicated it was a recent development) Link could have been fooled into thinking there was an actual plant growing out of his friend’s arm. The way the leaves curled softly, the way the blue on the petals slowly faded into white, it all looked exactly like the real thing. He couldn’t stop staring at it. One would think he would be sick and tired of staring at flowers since he did so just about every day, but this was so much different. It was so much cooler.

“I was stuck between two different flowers and couldn’t decide which I liked more. I came in that day to get a side by side comparison but instead, you gave me the Silent Princess, which turned out to be the best one of them all!” 

“So I believe what you’re trying to say is ‘thank you’?” Link smirked. He knew she was just a bit too proud to admit she couldn’t have done it on her own, but luckily for her Link was a fast learner and now knew how to read in between her lines.

“I… perhaps.”

“Then you’re welcome. I think you saved yourself a lot of trouble. No need to go to a flower shop ever again if you got a thing like that permanently inked on your arm.”

“I really don’t think you give your job enough credit. It’s so quiet and tranquil.”

“Exactly, it’s so boring! Nothing  _ ever _ happens!”

“Sometimes it’s nice to just do nothing as opposed to being overwhelmed with responsibilities.”

“At least then I’d be making use of my time. When there’s no one in the shop, It all just feels pointless.”

“You don’t understand,” Zelda shook her head. “People over there are ruthless. If their expectations aren’t met exactly, they’ll chew you out brutally.”

“I mean that makes sense,” Link leaned back, picking grapes out of his bag and gazing over at the tattoo shop next door, “tattoos are a pretty permanent thing. They’re gonna want it to be perfect,” she didn’t respond. In fact, she looked a little troubled by his comment. “Has anyone ever yelled at you before?”

“Well, no, but I’ve seen it happen. It’s not pretty.”

“Then you’re just overthinking,” he concluded, dropping several more grapes in his mouth. “You got no reason to stress.”

“That’s what you think. I’d like to see you try and do my job.”

“C’mon, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

“Have you ever even been in a tattoo shop before?” He shook his head in response.

“No, but I do know that you like to stress over everything. Whatever it’s like, it can’t be as bad as you say it is.”

“I do not stress over everything!”

“Literally the other day you were texting me, freaking out because you thought you lost your pen.”

“It wasn’t just any pen! It had sentimental value and it might have been gone forever!”

“It’s a writing utensil!”

“Whatever,” Zelda sighed, crossing her arms. She seemed angry, but Link knew she was giving him a hard time. Even so, he thought he’d better cover his bases, just in case. He picked the final grape he had and held it out to her.

“Peace offering,” he explained when she gave him a puzzled look. She glared at it as if it had insulted her somehow before picking it from his palm and popping it into her mouth.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” she asked, abruptly yet strategically steering the subject away from her own shortcomings. Link let that slide, this time.

“I’ve thought about it but I guess I just haven’t had time.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “If I do ever go to a tattoo shop, though, it’ll probably be just to bother you about something. Y’know, to call it even.”

“Bother, huh? Is that how you see my visits?”

“Well, you did dramatically drag me out from behind my register to tell me you, a tattoo artist, got a tattoo,” her glare was intense, but Link remained nonchalant, standing by his words.

“I wanted you to be the first to see it! You know, since you sort of helped me decide on it and all.”

“Awe, that’s cute,” he received a justified, albeit weak, punch to the arm.

“If that’s really how you feel then I guess I’ll just stop coming.”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t do that! I don’t care if you were the most obnoxious person on the planet, I need someone in there keeping me sane!”

While they went on, bouncing between bickering and bantering, a slender woman in the distance slammed her car door and hustled toward the flower shop. When she noticed the two of them on the bench not far off, though, she abruptly changed her course to meet them. Link and Zelda noticed the woman awkwardly staring at them and halted mid-conversation, neither sure of what to make of this stranger’s presence.

She apologized for interrupting and asked them for their advice, fumbling with the strap of her purse all the while. Apparently she needed a certain arrangement of flowers for a “specific occasion” and wanted to know if Magda’s Marigolds would have what she was looking for.

“Well, that would depend on the occasion I suppose,” Zelda began. Link, unwilling to sit through what he knew could easily turn into an hour-long discussion of flower symbolism, intervened.

“Yeah, just go up to the counter in there and tell them what you’re looking for. I promise, the guys in there know their stuff, they’ll be able to help you out.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s relieving. I just didn’t want to walk in there and find out they didn’t have anything I was looking for,” the woman sighed in relief. She smiled warmly and extended her hand to them. “My name is Cremia, by the way.”

“Link.”

“Zelda.” They each took turns returning the meek red-haired woman’s handshake.

“Nice to meet you both. Are you two twins?” The two on the bench widened their eyes at the question, glancing at each other and back before Zelda took the initiative.

“No, we’re not even related, actually.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I guess I just saw how you two were talking and I just assumed…” she trailed off, hiding her face with one of her hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” Link assured. “It’s not the first time someone’s asked.” Zelda thrust her elbow into his side, warning him to keep quiet.

“Well, I guess I’ll just let you two be, then. Thanks again for your help!”

Link watched Cremia give them a little wave before braving into Magda’s Marigolds. He then turned his attention back to Zelda which instantly led to both of them bursting out in laughter.

“You’d think we’d be used to it by now!” Zelda commented between breaths. 

“Doesn’t make it any less funny!”

Link wasn’t wrong, before. It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d received a comment about them being related, but no matter how many times it happened it never made any more sense. They didn’t think they looked anything alike. Sure, they both had blond hair, but even those were different shades, with Zelda’s being brighter and more golden and Link’s darker and sandy. Though it might not be something they understood, at least they could laugh about it. That was one of Link’s favorite parts of their friendship.

“I hope she finds everything alright,” Zelda mused aloud after they’d calmed down. “The poor thing looked so nervous!”

“She’ll be fine. People in there are competent and hard-working,” Link reached for his phone and caught the time. It had almost been an hour since they came out on the bench. “Crap,  _ I’m _ supposed to be one of those people. I gotta get back in there.” He hastily jumped from his seat and grabbed his lunch bag, now primarily full of trash, and straightened out his shirt and nametag.

“I should probably head back, too,” Zelda sauntered down the sidewalk to the front of her shop. “I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Awesome, yeah, talk to you later!” Link absentmindedly replied before racing back in the flower shop before his hour was officially up and he got himself into trouble. The overwhelming smell of flora invaded his nostrils once again, and instead of feeling refreshing like it would most people, all he felt was misery.

<><><><><><><><>

A few more days passed and Link noticed Zelda wearing more and more tank tops to properly display the artistry on her right arm. Each night after work they would text about how their days went. This was a semi-recent tradition, and something Link affectionately referred to as a new “level” of “official friendship.” Zelda had told him calling it that would never catch on, but he clung to it, so her only response from then after was to remind him how odd he was to her, which he didn’t mind one bit.

One evening in particular, though, their texts were more than light conversation or complaints about out-of-line customers. Link had just returned to his apartment from work and changed out of his uniform, forever scented with the sickening floral smell of his workplace, into something more comfortable. Zelda didn’t leave work until a few hours later, yet the velocity of her responses to his texts indicated she must not have been too busy at the moment. That wasn’t unusual. What was unusual, however, was the crypticness of her messages.

All he’d asked was how she was doing. A simple enough thing to ask a friend, he’d thought. He’d done it countless nights before. This time, though, instead of saying things were fine or going on some paragraph-long rant about one rude customer, she responded with a singular word.  _ Help. _

_ Whats wrong??  _ He had texted back as quickly as his fingers allowed.

_ Please come. _

_ R u ok? _

_ I did something I shouldn’t have. Please come. _

That was how Link ended up driving straight back the way he came not twenty minutes after coming home. His mind raced with answers. Was she hurt? In trouble? Why did she need him? As he pulled up into the parking lot, he saw Zelda waiting for him outside the tattoo shop. She had a lightweight jacket on with the hood up. On a hot summer night like tonight, Link thought, what the heck is going on?

His legs made an effort to race as fast as his heartbeat, almost causing him to trip as he screeched to halt in front of her. Zelda’s eyes were red like she had been crying, and her hands were tucked into the pockets of her jacket that, since he was up close, Link could now see had the Valoo’s Tattoos logo in the top left corner. 

Breathing heavily from his sprint, Link looked her over. She didn’t appear to be hurt, not physically anyway. Obviously she was distraught about something or he wouldn’t be here in front of her now. Maybe someone yelled at her? Verbally assaulted her? He felt his fists clench almost involuntarily at the mere thought of anyone saying anything to make Zelda cry. He was ready to fight whoever, however, whenever. He would do it.

“I left early,” Zelda’s soft voice reached him, instantly drowning the voices in his own mind. “I said I wasn’t feeling well and left.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I- I’m so sorry… you shouldn’t be here.” fresh tears formed at the corners of her eyes, ready to escape at any moment.

“Well, I’m here. Zelda, what is going on? Tell me!” without a second thought, he felt her grab his hand and pull him around the corner of the shop so all the street lights and windows were out of sight. Then, slowly, she lowered the hood of her jacket. Her beautiful golden hair fell to either side of her face, well, most of it. There were uneven strips that had been haphazardly cut off at differing lengths. It looked as if a young child had gotten away with becoming a hairdresser and decided to take some creative liberties.

“What the..” Link gasped, his eyes still adjusting to the shadowy nature of the alley. 

“I… I did something I shouldn’t have,” she admitted, her voice shaking, “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“How did this happen? What did you do?”

She fell apart. Sobs escaped from her mouth, unlike anything Link had ever heard. Her tears flowed like waterfalls on either side of her face as the water, tinted darker from her running mascara, stained her cheeks. Unsure of what he was supposed to do, Link did what only felt the most natural. He pulled her into a tight hug, allowing her to bury her face into his shoulder. They stood there until her breathing became stable again and her tears slowed.

“You gonna talk to me now or do I just have to keep guessing?” Zelda looked up at him. Link had always seen her as so cool, put together, and mysterious. Now, while she certainly was still a mystery to him, she was fragile and afraid. He had to admit it made him nervous, but this wasn’t about him. She needed him, and he was going to be there.

“I… I was,” Zelda tried, interrupting herself with her own ragged breathing threatening to break into more sobs. Link gently knelt to the ground, an action she had no choice but to follow while his arms still held her close. They released her once they were sitting on the cold cement, their backs to the wall of the building.

There, she recounted everything. Today had been rough, she explained, but became all the more unbearable with every passing hour. They had been awfully busy for a tattoo place, each customer impatiently waiting to be helped, uttering words of annoyance and disapproval. Everyone was doing all they could, but the stress was insurmountable. This is how it had been every day for the majority of the week. 

With all the factors and events adding up, today she had reached her breaking point. Zelda excused herself to use the bathroom, where she went in, grabbed a pocket knife, and started hacking off sections of hair. It felt good at first, she admitted, but one more look in the mirror told her she had done something rash and stupid. She couldn’t stand to be seen, so she snuck out of the building from the back exit, grabbing the jacket on her way. She shot a text to her coworker that she had fallen ill and went home early, while simultaneously texting Link to come get her.

“I was originally planning to carpool with my coworker to get home,” she explained, her voice barely above a whisper, “but I just told her I made other arrangements…. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Zelda stroked her uneven locks with her hands, defeat in her eyes.

“Well, I know what I’m thinking. You need a break,” Link told her plainly. It sounded more like a demand than a suggestion.

“I can’t. I have work to do and all my vacation days are--”

“I don’t care! You’ve been working yourself way too hard and now you need a break. You need time to relax and recharge. You’re not a machine.” 

“But how? If I just don’t show up to work, they’ll fire me!”

“Just call in sick, or something.”

“I can’t just lie because I’d rather stay home than work!”

“It’s not about preference, it’s about mental health! Look at you!” he dramatically gestured to all of her. Zelda’s face scrunched like it would start crying again at any moment and pulled her knees up to her chest. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he corrected, choosing his next words cautiously. “Let’s… let’s just get out of here.”

“And go where?”

“To my place. My mom is a hairdresser, so I’ve picked up a thing or two. We’ll get this all straightened out, I promise.” 

Her tiny nod was all he needed to stand straight up and walk her to his car. The drive home was completely silent. At half-past six, the sun’s final rays were shining brilliantly across the land, though no amount of sunshine could fix the tension still looming in the air.

Link walked her into his apartment before immediately getting down to business. Within minutes he had her sitting in front of a full-length mirror in his bathroom, relying on him completely to make this right. A little trim there, a couple snips here, and a few large cuts there, and it was over. Zelda’s once long and elegant golden hair now ended just above her shoulders, pristinely positioned to perfection.

It was not lost on Link how Zelda dared not open her eyes until he had finished, hearing him take the broom to sweep up the excess hair now coating his bathroom floor. When she did look, though, she didn’t seem quite as happy as Link had envisioned. Instead, she seemed perturbed-- perplexed, even-- by the sight. Link had a feeling he was about to get either an earful or the silent treatment. The latter was seeming more and more plausible as she stared down her reflection, feeling the ends of her hair with her fingertips.

“Ew,” she finally uttered, to Link’s surprise. One word was about nine hundred ninety-nine words less than he thought he’d get.

“What? You don’t like it? I never said I was an expert, okay, I was just working with what you gave me,” he defended.

“No, it’s… it’s fine I guess. Only now… well, now I look like you,” she wrinkled her nose in disgust at her own comparison.

“What are you talking about?” Link caught his reflection in the mirror from where he swept behind Zelda. He moved in front of the stool where she had been sitting to stand next to her. In his rush to Zelda’s aid, he hadn’t had much time to do anything with his own hair. What was normally tied semi-neatly back behind his head now lay wild and loose, slightly knotted in small areas. “Nah, mine is longer now. You’re all good.”

“You really couldn’t have made it any longer?” she turned her nose at him as he continued his sweeping job.

“I did the best I could, alright.”

“You might as well have just chopped it all off!”

“I still can if you want me to! Do you want me to?”

“Of course not!”

“Then I’d be thanking me if I were you.” Link leaned a hand against the wall, having disposed of all the severed hair and now holding the broom in his opposite hand. Zelda lowered her head and stayed quiet, the reluctant signal he’d come to know as ‘fine, you win.’

He hauled the broom, stool, and the rest of his supplies out of the room before turning back to facing Zelda, who had remained staring at the mirror the whole time. Link stood in the doorway. He took perhaps one moment too long to soak everything in, recognizing fully how awesome he was doing at giving the appearance that he had everything under control. But even Link couldn’t keep up a facade forever. His weight shifted between his feet, deciding what exactly he was planning to do now that he had successfully hauled his friend into his bathroom for an emergency haircut.

“Look,” he started a bit awkwardly, “take all the time you need. Get cleaned up. There’s a shower, clean towels, and a closet down that way,” he gestured to the doorway at the other end of the bathroom, “what’s mine is yours. Hoodies, t-shirts, sweatpants, I don’t care. Take whatever you need. And whenever you’re ready to go home, just give me the word.” She flashed him a warm, thankful smile and nodded. He smiled back before gently closing the door and walking away.

It was now 7:30 p.m. Zelda emerged from the bathroom refreshed and relaxed. She had on his favorite grey sweatpants and a plain baby blue t-shirt he didn’t even remember he owned. What surprised him more, though, was how well she fit them. The pants were a tad bit long and the shirt a little baggy, but it wasn’t much too different from the loose-fitting t-shirts of her own Link had so often seen her wear. Between the changes in hair and attire, she was barely recognizable, or perhaps that was mostly because this was also the first time he’d ever seen her without makeup.

While he waited, Link had scoured his kitchen for anything even remotely suitable for an evening meal. All he’d managed to gather was a couple of apples and a bag of Doritos. Not exactly the most nutritious dinner he’d had all week, but it was food. He had a nagging feeling Zelda wouldn’t feel the same, though. When she saw what he had to offer, she laughed at him, wondering aloud why she should have expected anything different, then suggested they order a pizza instead. Link liked that idea better too.

So, the two bantered and chatted as they waited for the delivery. Zelda seemed to be in much better spirits already, considering the utter misery of roughly two hours prior. The soothing and tranquil healing waters of a hot shower should never be underestimated.

“This is actually quite a nice apartment you have,” Zelda admitted, wandering around the living space just off the kitchen.

“Yeah, I guess it’s alright,” Link agreed from his seat on the plush couch. “It’s kinda cramped though.”

“Well, maybe it wouldn’t be if you didn’t have miscellaneous exercise equipment lying around everywhere.”

“Yeah, sorry, wasn’t exactly expecting visitors,” he laughed nervously, reaching a hand behind his neck. “Working out is kinda my stress reliever.”

“Just like I guess mine is chopping off hair,” she reached to feel her shortened locks not for the first time that evening.

“Okay, but to be fair, from what you’ve told me, it sounds like that was more of a mental breakdown than anything. You just pushed yourself too far.” Zelda whipped around and stared him down with her stormy green eyes.

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

“Take some time off.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Link, you don’t understand.” She continued her strategic exploration of the room. Link knew arguing back was pointless. He’d dealt with enough angry customers to know it would only make matters worse. Still, he wasn’t about to let her go back to work after a day like today, and he wasn’t sure she wanted to either, no matter what she said.

“Does your uniform always smell this nice?” Link craned his neck to look at her over the couch. Zelda was admiring his work clothes, thrown lazily on the back of the seat next to him on the couch. He must have forgotten to properly put it away in the rush.

“I mean, it is surrounded by flowers all day,” he replied, entertaining her abrupt subject change.

“That must feel so nice…”

“Trust me, you get sick of it eventually,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“If only I had the chance…” He watched her trace invisible designs on his pollen-infested polo. 

He would have said something more if a knock on the door hadn’t broken the moment, causing both of them to jump at the sound. Link hustled to the door and answered it, expecting the delicious aroma of a fresh pizza delivery but was disappointed when met with the eager eyes of one of his neighbors instead.

“Hi, so sorry to bother you but I didn’t know who else would be up at this time…”

“It’s eight o’clock,” was his immediate deadpan response.

“Right. Well, I’m here now anyway. I was just wondering, could I borrow a pen from you by any chance? It’s the strangest thing but I can’t find a single one anywhere in my apartment. And I really need one so I--”

“Sure, fine, I’ll get you a pen or whatever, just gimme a sec.” Link left the door wide open as he walked to a nearby drawer to search for a writing utensil he surely would never be seeing again. This left a clear path for the neighbor to lock eyes with Zelda, who gave her an awkward but friendly little wave in response.

“Hey, Linny, is that your sister?”

“No, as a matter of fact, she is not,” he wasn’t doing great at hiding the sarcasm in his tone, but he also wasn’t trying that hard. He handed his neighbor a pen, bid her a good night, and closed the door immediately once she turned away. He spun around and caught Zelda staring at him peculiarly, an eyebrow raised and head cocked.

“Linny?”

“That was one of my neighbors, Kodah. She loves to talk about how great friends we are but she could never even get my name right. I eventually just stopped trying to correct her.”

“You were rather cross with her, don’t you think?”

“Sorry, it’s kinda hard when you’re expecting to gain a pizza and end up losing a pen.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” she laughed.

“Plus, that’s the what, sixth person that’s thought we were related?”

“Sixth? I thought there were only four.”

“Whatever, I don’t keep track.”

It was an interesting thought, though, considering their recent discussion when he did her hair. People did seem to think they looked alike, and now with the hair development, even Zelda had admitted it. Why or how would forever be lost on Link… but perhaps it could be used to an advantage. Now  _ there’s _ a thought. It was risky, but ends might just be able to justify the means… 

“So,” he nonchalantly leaned a hand on the back of the couch, facing Zelda, “you wanna work at a flower shop for a day?”

“What?”

“You keep going on and on about how relaxing and peaceful working at a flower shop must be. I am sick and tired of having nothing better to do with my life than arrange flowers all day. So, I repeat, do you want to work at a flower shop for a day?”

“I… I don’t follow. What are you..?”

“Don’t you see? It’s a seamless plan! Even you said we look alike with your new haircut, so there’s no way anyone else will notice.”

“Link, I think you know that’s not how it works. It doesn’t matter where I am, I’ll still get in trouble if I’m not at  _ my job _ .”

“Oh, don’t worry, you will be.”

“Well, I can’t be at two places at once.”

“But what if I said you could?”

“What are you… you’re not suggesting..?” the smirk that enveloped his face was all the proof she seemed to need. “It’s not going to work,” she stated firmly. “It doesn’t matter how similar we appear, our mannerisms and speech will make it blatantly obvious we aren’t who we say we are.” Link stared her down, a challenge she gladly took on. About a minute passed before either spoke again.

“Well then buckle up, buttercup, ‘cause you’re about to get a lesson in Link,” he announced, pointing a finger to himself confidently. The front door sounded again, this time indicating food had arrived. “After we eat because I am starving,” he immediately tacked on, rushing to the door. Zelda just laughed and shook her head, joining him at the counter where he would place the pizza box.

“You know, you’re right,” she began, after he closed the front door, her tone contemplative and solemn, “I would rather work at the flower shop next door. But do you really think this little scheme will actually work?”

“It’s either this or I let you go straight back to your normal job tomorrow so you can burn out all over again. And I can’t do that. That’s not what friends do.”

“And this is the only other solution you can think of?” An enthusiastic nod responded. “You’re so odd.”

“I know,” he assured with a smirk. “But don’t worry, soon you will be too!”

<><><><><><><>

Zelda ended up staying the night. It wasn’t quite intentional, but Link just couldn’t bring himself to wake her after she’d dozed off on the couch late last night. They had stayed up close to midnight teaching each other how to be each other. It was like a twisted version of charades, which led to hysterical laughter that probably disturbed a handful of neighbors. But it was worth it because now their plan could fully be put into action.

Magda’s Marigolds opened at 9 a.m. while Valoo’s Tattoos opened an hour later. They needed enough time to wake up, get Zelda ready, then drive by her house to get Link ready for his (but really her) day. So, at 7 a.m. sharp alarms sounded and Link dragged himself out of bed.

Readying Zelda for his day was the easy part. She grabbed a pair of jeans from his closet and slipped on his polo with no difficulty. Link made the suggestion that she wear a matching hat so her shorter (and slightly lighter) hair would be less noticeable. He didn’t wear it often because it wasn’t required by the company, but it served its purpose well. Link’s only other suggestion to her was that she slouched a bit and kept from standing up straight as much as possible so the more notable physical differences between them were adequately hidden.

Link’s preparations, however, were a different story. He drove them to her house as soon as she was ready, explaining his basic tasks and routine morning checklist on the way. It wasn’t until they arrived that he realized what they were really there for: a makeover. 

Zelda showed no mercy, applying layers upon layers of product to his face. Link had never even touched makeup before, so the whole experience was strange and very eye-opening. He didn’t understand why girls went through so much trouble to put all of this on every morning, especially girls like Zelda, who looked perfectly fine without anything at all. His opinion, of course, didn’t exactly matter as she still expressed her uneasiness about being seen in public without product (despite posing as someone else) and he still had to wear it because it was precisely what Zelda would normally do. 

That, and it certainly made him look more like her. Link almost did a double-take when he saw his reflection of the final results. Sculpted eyebrows, glossed lips, and luscious lashes transformed him into something-- or rather, someone-- he never thought imaginable. The face was done, now for the wardrobe. Link browsed her t-shirt collection and settled on a navy blue one he’d seen her wear before. If his memory served him correctly, it seemed a bit large on her, but on him, it fit just right. A couple of adjustments and agreements were made to ensure the look was as accurate as possible before moving on to the other half of the outfit.

Link had brought his own separate pair of jeans to wear and though they didn’t have holes like many of Zelda’s did, she acquiesced in letting him wear them, which he was very grateful for. As much as he wanted to help Zelda, Link was not ready to shave his legs for her. Maybe that was a next-level friendship thing.

So, after a makeover, a costume change, and a small blue barrette for the side of his hair (“just for good measure,” she told him) at last, he was ready. With only about half an hour before 9 o’clock, the two scurried into Link’s car and rode off to work.

When he pulled into the parking lot, they had about five minutes left. Before they exited the vehicle, Zelda had suggested they switch phone cases rather than swapping phones entirely, which was a detail that hadn’t even occurred to Link but he readily accepted regardless. As they did so, however, there was one little detail he did notice, permanently inked on her right hand.

“Crap, what are you gonna do about the tattoo?” he pointed.

“Oh shoot, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Oh no, what will we do? Surely they’ll notice something like that!” she clutched her hand over her right arm.

“Your arm should be fine, the sleeve is pretty long, but I don’t know about your hand.”

“I wish I’d thought of it sooner, I could have tried using some concealer or something.” Link tapped the steering wheel with his finger in frantic thought. Searching the car for ideas, his eyes landed on the glovebox. He jolted in front of Zelda and opened the compartment, pulling out a black Sharpie.

“This’ll do!”

“What are you talking about, how is that supposed to help?” she demanded impatiently.

“Gimme your hand.” Zelda reluctantly did as told, laying her hand in his, as he popped open the cap and started doodling. He might have overdone it, but what mattered was the tattooed Triforce now looked like nothing more than random nonsensical notes… or perhaps simply boredom-induced scribblings. That was a more likely story. “There, perfect.”

“What is this?”

“It’s not a tattoo, that’s all that matters. Now get in there and sell some flowers, Link.” Zelda flung open the car door at his commission, but suddenly halted and jolted back to her seat once more.

“Wait, one more thing,” she snatched the marker for him. “Now you give me your hand.” Link complied and watched the artist at work, tracing an exact replica of her own mark on his right hand. “There, now you’re Zelda.”

Zelda (as Link) needed to rush in the flower shop to get to work on time, but Link (as Zelda) still had an hour to kill. How was he going to spend it? What would Zelda do? The natural conclusion he came to was to enter the flower shop the minute it opened. It wasn’t uncommon for her to hang out with him while the store was empty, the only difference now was it was first thing in the morning. Plus, this would give him a chance to make sure she knew what she was doing, and of course relaxing and having fun along the way.

Things couldn’t have gone smoother. Anju didn’t seem to think twice when “Link” showed up seconds before opening and rushed to prepare for the day. She also didn’t seem bothered by “Zelda” standing so close to the register, discreetly whispering a thing or two in that direction. She knew the two of them were good friends, so perhaps she decided it was best to let them be. All the better for them. Surely the hardest part of the day was going to be refraining from speaking as much as possible. Their distinct voices, though they had taken some effort to memorize each other’s slang, would be a dead giveaway.

When it was “Zelda’s” time to go to work, Link suddenly became inexplicably nervous. The thought of finally being on the other side and leaving the wretched flower shop for the day enthralled him, but there were still complications. The main one was that it occurred to him that he had no idea how to  _ do _ Zelda’s job. It wasn’t exactly as predictable or laid back as general retail, either, so guesswork could lead to impending doom. Still, he held his head high and strode in with all the confidence he could muster. That’s what Zelda would do, so it’s what he would too. 

It was complete culture shock. The music from the speakers was loud and clear, yet not overbearing, the posters and designs that lined every wall were astonishing, and the few people already there (presumably coworkers) were covered in sleeves of ink and a variety of face piercings. It was the coolest place Link had ever stepped foot in, but the sensory overload was also a bit overwhelming. He almost felt lightheaded as he whipped his head in every direction to take it all in. It wasn’t until he caught a glance from the gal with a lip piercing in the corner that he regained focus and remembered to keep his physical reaction to a minimum, as Zelda was probably as sick of this place as he was the flower shop… for some reason. Now it was time to get to work!

Never in his life had Link ever been so thankful for the drought of customers in the flower shop. This meant Zelda could easily respond to all his questions through text without worrying about slacking off. It wasn’t easy, but he thought he was starting to get the hang of this new vocabulary. Social interaction, however, was another story.

“Are you feeling alright, Zelda?” one of her coworkers asked him. She’d mentioned her name to him, but he’d unfortunately forgotten, “you seem on edge.” 

“You’re always so quiet,” a muscly man with a flaming skull pattern spanning across his left arm commented, “we all know you take your work seriously, you don’t have to rub it in!”

“I like what you’ve done with your hair,” the lip piercing girl complimented, “I think it suits you.”

He played them off the best he could without using his words. It seemed to be fooling them. As long as he kept his mouth shut and head high it looked as if things were all going to work out. However, Link’s first attempt of actually giving someone a tattoo was what he dreaded (and knew was most likely to screw their plan) the most. The second everyone saw his lack of artistic talent, they’d know for sure. Praise the heavens his first attempt was a relatively simple shape. Why someone would want a plain diamond shape tattooed on their cheek was beyond Link, but he was thankful for the simple task all the same and made no complaints.

So the day went on, each task slightly more challenging than the last. Link was constantly pushing his hair out of his face (Zelda made him wear it down with the exception of the single blue barrette because she said his normal hairstyle was too “him”) as it tickled his cheeks and stuck to his glossed lips. Zelda had warned him before they left about touching his newly made-up face, but old habits were hard to break, even those he never realized he had. Every time his hand reached to scratch his nose or rub his eye, he was soon reminded that his face was no longer his own. How on earth did girls live like this?

Despite it all, he was having a blast. There was always hubbub and conversation at the tattoo shop, and when there wasn’t, at least there was music you could actually hear to enjoy. Link had to make a conscious effort not to start singing along when some of his favorite songs came on. It was just about everything he’d imagined: lively, relaxed, and super cool. He could only hope Zelda was having as great of a time as he was, otherwise, he may never be able to come back.

All good things must come to an end, though, and by three in the afternoon, Zelda’s shift was over. The tattoo shop wasn’t closed, so Link took the opportunity to hang out and observe for a bit longer than perhaps he should have. But Zelda, being the punctual and all-knowing being she is, texted him the minute his (aka her) shift ended and told him to come to the flower shop. Link was hesitant, though. He had hoped to avoid that place as much as possible… maybe he could at least wait until this one song was over first.

<><><><><><><>

“Did you not get my text?” Zelda inquired through gritted teeth. It was now after five-- the time Link’s shift ended. The two sat on the bench to the right of the flower shop, whispering.

“I guess I got a little distracted.”

“A little?”

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Two hours later…” she folded her arms around her chest, while unknowingly allowing Link to catch another glimpse at her hand during the exaggerated motion.

“Hey, what’d you do to your hand?”

“Oh,” she raised it in front of her. What was nothing but scribbled gibberish that morning had somehow transformed into an elaborate sketch of a rose, using the black marker as a base with added lines and details from a white pen to form the shape. “That’s what everyone kept asking. Eventually, I just got tired of hearing it so I fixed it up a little.”

“You couldn’t have just said you were bored or something.”

“I did at first, but it felt strange since it wasn’t genuine.”

“Right, and being genuine was definitely the first thing I had in my mind when I decided it was a good idea to swap lives for a day,” Link sighed, rubbing his temples with two fingers.

“Stop! You’ll mess it up!” Zelda slapped his hands down into his lap viciously. “Not that it hasn’t been messed up already, I suppose,” she added, now more closely examining his face from every angle, much to Link’s discomfort.

“Hey, it did its job. That’s all that matters,” Link cautiously lowered her hands from where they had been running along his cheekbones, “and it’s not the only thing. You actually got a couple compliments today.”

“Oh? About what?”

“People said they liked your hair. Thought it suited you,” he gave her a wink.

“Oh, well, I suppose you did receive a compliment too. Your coworker said she was quite impressed by your organizational prowess today.”

“Oh, that’s… great,” Link cringed internally. Hopefully, Anju wasn’t planning on getting used to that anytime soon. This seemed to call for a subject change. “So I take it you had a good time, today?” 

“Oh, it was magnificent! I’ve worked in retail before but never like this! Everything looked and smelled beautiful all the time and there was no pressure or rush to complete tasks. Everyone was just so kind! The atmosphere was gorgeous and the quiet spoke volumes. It…” she took a moment to regain all the oxygen required for her ramblings, swapping from ecstatic to thoughtful in an instant, “it was exactly what I needed. I can’t thank you enough, Link.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured with a soft smile. “I’m always happy to help.”

“So, now what?” she whispered after a brief silence. 

“Well, now, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to wash my face more in my entire life.” Zelda giggled at this.

“No, I mean tomorrow. Do we just… go back to normal?”

Link studied her. She sat with her shoulders slumped, hands in her lap, and one finger tracing the back of her right hand where her Triforce would normally be visible. Her eyes were cast downward, wandering across the pavement lit by the evening glow, and her breathing sounded more like a never-ending cycle of uneasy sighs. 

“Are you ready to go back tomorrow?” He already knew the answer. 

“I… I can’t avoid my responsibilities forever. It’s not fair to anyone. I might as well--”

“But are you really ready?” She paused, but then shook her head slowly. “Then I’ll bring my stuff and meet at your place tomorrow morning at seven.” Zelda perked up and treated him to a sympathetic yet thankful grin.

“Link, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know. I want to. What kind of friend would I be if I just let you continue going to a job that stresses you out when it really should be fun?” She seemed to ponder the question considerably, but Link cut her off right as she opened her mouth to speak. “It’s a rhetorical question. You don’t have to give an answer. But my point is we’re already above that level of official friendship, so of course I’m gonna help.”

“That’s still never going to stick,” she retorted, leaning back on the bench.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure that’s what people said about two pieces of paper until some guy came along and invented glue.” Link also leaned back, propping one of his arms on the back of the bench. “Never say never, sweetheart.” Zelda rolled her eyes (though to him she appeared more amused than annoyed) and breathed out another sigh. 

The two sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, listening to the cars zoom by on the busy road next to the parking lot and watching people shuffle in and out of the shops that lined the sidewalk. There were only four stores in the row: the tattoo shop, the flower shop, then a small bakery, then a hair salon. The variety provided an array of different people to look at, from young boys begging their mothers to buy a donut from the bakery to old women who simply enjoy having a flower garden. 

All the time in the world could pass by and Link might not have even noticed. As hastened as people seemed this time of day, it was relaxing to simply sit on the sidelines and observe. It wasn’t until Zelda sprang from her seat and hopped in front of him that he was zapped back into reality.

“Have you ever wanted to get a tattoo?”

“Is this a trick question?” Link asked, startled by her sudden movement and query. 

“No, I’m serious. Do you want a tattoo?”

“I don’t know, maybe?”

“Well then let’s get you one!”

“Like, right now? There?!” he motioned to her workplace.

“Why not?”

“Well, first of all, I still look like  _ you _ !”

“I have a plan for that, just follow me!” 

And a plan she did have. Dragging him back through the alley from the previous night and around the building, she snuck them in through the back and into the single-person bathroom. There, she revealed a small black bag she kept “in case of emergencies” which included a nail file, some lipstick, and lots of wipes for makeup removal. So the two worked to undo all they had done that morning until it was as if they had never even switched (aside from Zelda’s lack of makeup).

“Before we get out there,” she whispered, patting down her sporadic short hair, “do you have an idea of what kind of tattoo you may want?” Link took a minute to think, though it would be a lie to say it hadn’t been on his mind until that very moment. He glanced down at his right hand, the Sharpie markings almost completely smudged off.

“Yeah, I think I have an idea.”

Zelda didn’t do the job herself for fear of getting in trouble for working after her shift (along with not wanting to be recognized by her coworkers), but she did insist on paying. It was her way of showing appreciation and thanks for his commitment to her mental wellbeing. It was quite an admirable thing to do considering the hefty price of even the smallest tattoo, not to mention how obviously uncomfortable she was to simply be standing in that shop to be with him. Afterward, Link drove Zelda home and promised to meet her first thing at seven tomorrow morning. She said she couldn’t wait.

Back at his own home, Link sat at the edge of his bed, mesmerized by the work on his reddened hand. It was so plain, so simple, yet so powerful. There was something about it, the Triforce, being permanently inked on your hand that just made you feel a connection, a strange feeling that could only be described as a divine stroke of fate. Regardless of its historical importance, though, what made it so special to Link was every time he saw it, he thought of Zelda. Like a friendship bracelet, only this cannot be lost or replaced. It would stay with him for the rest of his life, just as he hoped she would.

<><><><><><><>

Tomorrow soon came, as did many more days, with Link and Zelda repeating the same role reversing morning routine. Now that they had matching Triforce tattoos, there was no longer a need to conceal Zelda’s hand while playing “Link” at the flower shop, which Link was thankful for entirely because it meant there was less of a chance she would end up creating a reputation for him he simply could not keep up with. Even when she was trying to be him she was still so much cooler than he was. 

“Your coworker said she likes your tattoo, by the way,” Zelda informed him during their shared lunch break. The two often met during breaks to check in with one another and keep each other up to date about what’s happening in their own lives. “She wanted to know what inspired you to get it.”

“What’d you say?”

“I didn’t say, I just shrugged.” Link simply nodded in approval, taking a bite of the sandwich he’d packed for the day. “But now I’m curious.” she leaned in, shortening the distance between them on the bench. “What was the inspiration?”

“You mean other than the charade?” he laughed, mouth half full.

“If there’s more to tell.”

“I guess… I guess it just kinda felt… right. Y’know?” Zelda started to nod her head, paused, then decidedly shook it instead. Link just chuckled at her, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand to remove the crumbs stuck to the corners of his lips. 

“You’re going to fix that, right?” he took a second to catch onto her meaning but groaned once he put it together.

“Do I really have to?” Zelda glared at him, forcing Link to reach into his front jean pocket and pull out a tube of lip gloss. He’d kept one on him per Zelda’s suggestion for cases in which he’d need to “freshen up.” Still, he refused to do it himself, slapping the tube in her palm as she took it and carefully unscrewed the lid. 

“It’s what Zelda would do,” she lectured, the words dripping lazily down her chin so as to put her full concentration in the precision of the fresh application, “and that is who you are.”

“I don’t know how you live with this stuff. Especially how it always makes your hair stick to it,” he complained, pressing his shining lips together at her nonverbal command. 

“Welcome to the struggles of being a female.”

“Seems pretty pointless to me. Who are you tryna impress, anyway?”

“No one! We just want to look nice.”

“You don’t need makeup to do that. Look at you now! You’re beautiful without it!” 

That certainly threw Zelda off her guard. She started blushing fiercely and turned her face away from him. But Link did not apologize. He didn’t care what she thought of his words. He didn’t regret them, and he most earnestly meant them.

“You’re a good friend, Link,” Zelda broke the short silence. “You’re always so supportive.”

“Well, isn’t that what friends do?” he eagerly responded with a charming smile.

“Not just any friends. Good friends. Close friends.” Zelda raised her head, face still slightly rosy, and stared her green eyes into his blue ones. Her eyes, they always captivated him. Since the first time he saw her in the flower shop, those curious eyes were what drew him in, piqued his interest… followed immediately by her position as a super cool tattoo artist, of course. 

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Wh- what do you think it means?”

“We’ve just leveled up our friendship!” Link pumped his fist in the air triumphantly. 

“You’re never giving it a rest, are you?” a cheeky “nope” was all of his response. “I’m going back to work,” Zelda stood, shaking her head and readjusting her (really, his) nametag. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Alright, see ya, Zel— er, Link,” he sprung from his seat with a wink. “Have fun with the flowers.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

That was the wrong answer, he thought to himself. Link would never say that. But Zelda would be one to  _ plan _ on having fun, and she was, so he wouldn’t stop her. Anything he could do to help her give herself a break was something worth doing in his eyes… working at possibly the coolest little shop in Hyrule in her stead was just a bonus!

<><><><><><><><>

Link was getting pretty comfortable. Perhaps dangerously so. It had been a week since their first day at role reversal and it already felt like forever. Link learned more and more about the life of a tattoo artist every day, only becoming all the more intrigued by it. Likewise, Zelda seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself as a retail worker at a flower shop, showing a reluctance to step out of the shop even for lunch breaks. Maybe it was just a girl thing, Link pondered. How else could she have not gotten sick of the sweet-scented store yet?

By the end of yet another day of shifts, Link felt unusually tired. Tattooing took quite a bit of concentration and dedication, so perhaps it was finally starting to catch up with him. That didn’t stop him from accepting Zelda’s invitation to come over for dinner and a movie, though. She insisted on it, saying she hadn’t yet sufficiently repaid him for his kindness. Free food and quality time with his close friend didn’t seem like half a bad idea, so who was Link to say no?

He arrived at her apartment at about 6:00 p.m. She didn’t live terribly far away from him, but Link did want a chance to go home, change into his own clothes, and scrub the wretched layers of makeup off his face. Link stepped up to her door and knocked, greeted with her smiling face within a fraction of a minute. Zelda warmly welcomed him inside and led him to her living room, a small space that consisted of one couch, a living chair, and a decent-sized flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

“I just ordered pizza. I hope that’s alright. It should be on its way,” she informed, pulling out her phone to check her order’s exact progress.

“Oh yeah, pizza is fine. Can’t go wrong there,” he readily assured her.

Once the pizza arrived, the next step was to pick a movie. Scrolling through the multitudinous options available on Netflix (and with a mildly heated discussion about why Link thought RomComs were stupid and why Zelda found them charming), they finally agreed upon some superhero action movie to watch. 

Throughout the film, Link found himself often distracted by Zelda. It wasn’t that she was doing anything particularly strange or even interesting, but he just couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. As time passed, he started to get the feeling that she was doing the same, though he couldn’t catch her in the act. She did seem like she was sitting closer to him than before, though.

At one particular point, Zelda had rested her head on his shoulder, an action he couldn’t be sure if she was aware of or not. Link didn’t stop her, but he did look at her again. One glance up told him she knew full well what she was doing, so he let it go and continued watching.

At another point, Link felt her fingers intertwine with his. He didn’t think this scene was  _ that _ scary, but who was he to judge. He was happy to hold her hand any day. Her soft, smooth, delicate hand…

At yet another point, Link felt her warm breath whispering in his ear. “I’m so glad I met you,” she’d said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Link smiled coyly and replied with a simple but nonetheless truthful, “I’m glad too.”

Toward the end of the movie, neither were even paying attention anymore. They had picked up a conversation, and once Zelda started talking it was difficult to know when it would end. Link didn’t mind, though. To him, it was just a reminder that she was cooler  _ and _ smarter than him, and he was okay with that.

“That’s just my opinion, though,” Zelda concluded how she often did, making the conversation seem subjective when it was clearly a straight matter of fact in her mind.

“And your opinion is always right, I know,” he droned.

“I didn’t say that!” she countered, lifting her head from his shoulder for the first time since placing it there.

“You didn’t have to, sweetheart. You couldn’t have made it more obvious.”

“Oh, shut up,” she punched him weakly in the arm.

“Shut up at work, now shutting up afterward, when exactly should I talk, then?” his sarcasm was met with a sympathy-devoid eye roll.

“Oh, you poor thing. You can’t talk to anyone all day,” she feigned pity. “Such a travesty.”

“Not really. I never talked to people much at the flower shop either. Only when I had to. So it’s whatever,” Link reached his right arm so it lay on top of the back of the couch, just above Zelda’s shoulders. “And besides, it’s worth it to help out a friend in need.”

“It has helped tremendously.”

“Do you feel better?”

“Much,” she smiled sincerely at him. “I… I think I’m ready to go back to work.”

“Oh,” Link’s own smile faded. Of course he was happy that Zelda was happy again, but he wasn’t sure  _ he _ was ready to be  _ un _ happy again in the dingy old flower shop. He came to enjoy his life in the tattoo place, no matter the trivial annoyances that came with it. But in the same mindset as when he started this mess, Link was willing to do what he must for her sake. It probably was about time for him to return to his old job too anyway.

Zelda must have noticed his conflicting emotions. He really was not good at keeping anything from her. Contrary to Link’s surmise, though, she didn’t say anything. Not at first. They sat in silence, with only the illumination of the TV in front of them and the chirping of crickets outside the window for company. Finally, her voice came to him, quiet, gentle, serene.

“Thanks for everything,” she practically whispered before closing the space between them as her soft, warm lips pressed gently against his cheek.

“Whoa,” his head swiveled toward her, eyes wide, “what was that about?”

“I jus-- well, I-- um, nothing, I only… I just…”

“Words, I know you have them, use your words,” he encouraged. Zelda breathed deeply.

“Link?”

“Hm?”

“What, um, ‘level’ of friendship are we at?” 

“I think the last time I checked we made it to ‘close friends.’” he couldn’t hide the oncoming smirk at her use of his term.

“Well,” Zelda caressed the cheek she had just kissed slowly, “what’s the next step?”

“...What do you want it to be?”

“Link?”

“Hm?”

“Would you… would you perhaps like to go from ‘close friend’ to… to ‘boyfriend?’’

Where did this come from? Had she felt it too? All along? The strange feeling of connectivity? Link had felt it since the day he first handed her the Silent Princess. Had she felt it then, too? He had just ignored it, associating the feeling with his fascination with the tattoo shop. But maybe there was more? Could they be more? It was definitely an intriguing thought. But what if it somehow didn’t work out? Would making the wrong choice ruin their friendship?

“I- Yeah, sure!” he said without thinking. The words slipped out, but oddly enough, they felt  _ right _ . Zelda adorably giddied a little before noticeably glancing down at his lips and back up. Link smiled and nodded slightly, engaging them both in a powerful kiss. It felt gentle, comforting, tantalizing, but most of all, it felt  _ right _ . As if fate itself had been teasing them all along, orchestrating the pathways of a continuous maze until, finally, they’d cracked the puzzle and claimed their reward.

The moment lasted an eternity, yet barely long enough all at once. They pulled apart reluctantly, panting slightly and locking eyes. Link was the first to break the gaze.

“Well, I guess I should get going soon,” he surmised, his voice hoarse. “You gotta be ready for work in the morning.”

“Do you have to go?” Zelda pouted, locking her fingers around his once again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Zelda.”

One more gentle kiss said goodbye as Link left the small apartment and headed for home. When he finally collapsed in his own bed, he scarce thought he’d be able to sleep with how excited he was about Zelda. Official friendship levels have been surpassed, now they were working on increasing their official couple levels.

<><><><><><><>

Link let out a heavy sigh as he shut the door tightly behind him. He couldn’t wait to wash his face and change his clothes. As he removed barrettes from his hair, causing strands to fall unceremoniously in front of his face, he noticed Zelda standing to his side, sporting some cozy grey sweatpants and a pastel pink tank top.

“How was work today?” she asked, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Busy,” he murmured.

It had been about a month since their first day of swapping jobs. It didn’t happen often, but every once in awhile Zelda would ask for a day in the flower shop, and who was Link to say no to a day at the tattoo place? Today, Zelda had told him to meet her at her home after work so they could have another movie night. They had discovered they really enjoyed action movies (though half the time they’d end up talking over them) and made it a weekly event. Pizza and action movies. Nothing beats that, not even the super cool tattoo shop.

“I just ordered the pizza,” she informed him. It was apparent she had only recently changed out of his uniform despite having finished his shift hours ago. The familiar fragrance of fuchsias surrounded her and invaded his senses. The scent Link would customarily describe as sickening and overpowering was somehow much more pleasant when it came from her. “What do you want to watch tonight?”

“Isn’t it your turn to pick?”

“Oh, well if that’s the case I know a particular romantic comedy that would--”

“No, no, anything but that!” he whined like a child whose mother refused to let him buy his favorite candy bar from the general store.

“Oh, calm down. I’m only teasing,” Zelda giggled as he trudged down the narrow hall to the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

“To clean up. Your mascara is burning my eyes.”

“Did you smear it?” she reached for and clutched his right hand, pulling them together with their faces just inches away. Link watched her thoroughly examine how her artwork had held up throughout the day. He squeezed her hand, still clung to his, admiring the matching Triforce symbol on both of them. Nothing had ever felt more  _ right _ .

“Zelda, please,” he finally interrupted, nonverbal attempts to escape being proven futile. She apologetically released him and let him continue his journey across the hall. It wasn’t until perhaps five steps away from the bathroom door that her voice halted him once more. 

“You know, that lip gloss does look pretty good on you,” she said with a smirk. She knew he still hated the stuff with a passion. “It really brings the look together.”

Link rolled his eyes, failing to fight off the upward curve of his mouth into a reciprocated smile. He turned and wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. After they parted, he studied her face, the now sweet and not as sickening smell of flora consuming him.

“Yeah, it looks better on you, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I hope you enjoy this little story I made. It was really supposed to be so much shorter but if I've learned anything it's that I cannot write short things to save my life! I guess I just get too carried away, haha. Regardless, I hope this little (but not-so-little) thing can at least make you smile :)


End file.
